


i want to be (for you)

by Acexual_Attorney



Category: LUCY (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Shin Gwangil-Centric, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29510004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acexual_Attorney/pseuds/Acexual_Attorney
Summary: It was a form of self-destruction, in all honesty. He was keeping himself away from the people who made him feel better as a sick form of punishment, punishment for not being a better drummer and performer. He was just killing two birds with one stone: practicing and also keeping himself away from his members for the day.
Relationships: Choi Sangyeob & Shin Gwangil, Jo Wonsang & Shin Gwangil, Platonic OT4 - Relationship, Shin Yechan & Shin Gwangil
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	i want to be (for you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daydreamcaged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamcaged/gifts).



> “I would like to request and Gwangil-centric One shot! Not even any ships or anything, but maybe something about how he still doubts the drums and the hyungs decide to speak to him about it (which may or may not end in cuddleds) so basically a bit angst and pure fluff!”
> 
> haiii sorry this took so long ive been.... busy..... but i got it out just in time to celebrate hero being released!!! and i can finally listen to the studio version of 난로 on repeat for the rest of my life >:3c

Gwangil rolled his shoulders and cracked his stiff neck. His back was sore from sitting up straight for so long.

_Again._

His wrists were starting to ache. He shook them out, wincing when they popped.

 _Again_.

The blisters on the palms of his hands had already popped, and it felt like new blisters were forming over the already raw skin.

 _Again_.

He gripped his drumsticks firmer, hit with more precision, tried to keep with the beat of the metronome.

_Again. Again. Again._

Gwangil sighed and slouched in his chair. He’d been practicing for the past 5 hours, learning and relearning new drum beats. His teacher was gone for the weekend, leaving Gwangil to rely solely on youtube tutorials.

All of them were at the company building doing their own things. Wonsang and Yechan were in the studio trying to form some melodies or something and Sangyeop was either practicing guitar or doing vocal lessons.

A pang of envy shot through his chest as he adjusted his grip on the drumsticks. The others would probably get to leave early while Gwangil would most likely stay well past midnight. They got to practice the instruments they were confident in, while Gwangil was still struggling with some of the basic concepts of drumming.

It wasn’t fair—

Gwangil clenched his jaw and hit the cymbal a bit too hard. His hand shot out to grab the stand before it fell, sighing as he sat it back up, checking to make sure it was secure in place.

It wasn’t like he had no choice in the matter. They needed a drummer, and Gwangil volunteered, and he wouldn’t trade anything for his position in Lucy. He was far from unhappy, but his heart still ached with how much he had to catch up.

And it wasn’t like he could catch up by bitterly staring at his drum set. He huffed a short breath, readjusted his grip again, and started from the top.

He was only able to get through three and a half shaky run-throughs of the practice drill before the door of the practice room opened.

Sangyeop walked in, letting the door swing behind him as he strode to Gwangil in the corner of the room, tucked safely behind his drums. He all but tossed a bottle of water in Gwangil’s direction, Gwangil having to drop his drumsticks to catch it.

Sangyeop laughed at Gwangil’s flustered catch, Gwangil glowered. 

“What do you want, hyung?” Gwangil asked after he sat down the water bottle. He wiped his hands on his jeans to get the perspiration off his skin.

“Just came to say hi,” Sangyeop grinned cheekily. His voice sounded raw, a bit rougher and more scratchy than usual— probably vocal lessons.

A distraction. Something that wasn't unwelcome, but something Gwangil knew he would berate himself over for later.

So with a crooked smile and feigning annoyance, Gwangil said, "Hi. Now bye," and gestured for Sangyeop to leave.

Sangyeop pouted and walked closer, one hand on his hip like a scolding mother. “Come on, you’ve been practicing for, what? Six hours now? Let’s go get some coffee or something.”

Gwangil chewed the inside of his cheek and looked down at his calloused hands for a brief moment of thought. Coffee, a break, talking— anything other than staying here sounded nice. But it was a luxury he wouldn’t allow himself. He _needed_ to improve, even if it meant death.

Okay, maybe not _that_ far, but Gwangil was beginning to become delusioned by his own state of mind.

Either way, he looked back at Sangyeop with as much remorse he could muster, saying, “Sorry, hyung. I still have a lot to do, but maybe next time.”

Sangyeop stared at Gwangil with pursed lips for a moment, scrutinizing him. Gwangil shifted under the gaze, growing ever more anxious that Sangyeop was catching onto his blatant lies.

Eventually, Sangyeop sighed and dropped his hand from his hip. “If you say so. I’ll be in the studio with the others, so come join us when you’re done.”

As soon as the door shut behind Sangyeop, Gwangil slumped in his stool. As much as he was anxious for the elder to leave a few moments ago, part of him missed him already. Being with his members always made him a bit lighter, the want to joke around and laugh drowning out any doubts.

It was a form of self-destruction, in all honesty. He was keeping himself away from the people who made him feel better as a sick form of punishment, punishment for not being a better drummer and performer. He was just killing two birds with one stone: practicing and also keeping himself away from his members for the day.

But the metacognition about _why_ he was doing what he was doing was very much uninvited.

Gwangil knew this kind of behavior wasn’t healthy, but a masochistic part of him wanted to continue. It wasn’t like he could turn his brain off, either. He was so out of it that he kept tripping over his own hands messing up what was supposed to be a relatively simple beat.

He had to keep pushing forward, though. It wasn’t like he could give up so soon, especially since he already sent Sangyeop, his only savior at the moment, away for the day. 

Another figure of salvation appeared only a few hours later. Yechan burst through the door with far too much enthusiasm for Gwangil’s fog-addled brain. The door shut behind him on its own accord as Yechan strode across the room with a white plastic bag in one hand and his phone in the other.

He reached over Gwangil’s drumkit and dropped the bag into Gwangil’s lap. Gwangil stared at him blankly.

“You haven’t eaten all day,” Yechan said, as if that was explanation enough. When Gwangil only continued to stare, Yechan rolled his eyes and continued, “It’s Indian from that place down the road. I know you like spicy chicken curry.” The last part came with an accusing bite, like he somehow knew exactly what Gwangil was doing.

Relenting, Gwangil finally sat down his drumsticks to rummage through the takeout bag. A warm foam container was underneath a wad of napkins, “ _Sp ChC_ ” written in messy sharpie.

Gwangil mustered the most genuine smile he could, hoping it didn’t come off as a grimace. “Thanks, hyung,” he said through gritted teeth and sat the container down next to the bottle of water.

Yechan didn’t leave. He looked at Gwangil much the way Sangyeop did, a pout scrunching up his face. If the look didn’t make a stone drop in Gwangil’s stomach, he would have called it cute.

A handful of seconds passed, with Gwangil’s heart steadily clenching more and more to the point of pain. His fingers twitched, a want to grip his chest at the mock heartburn, but Yechan finally conceded with a puff of air through his nose.

“Are you not gonna eat?” he asked. The suspicious look was gone, instead replaced with one of concern. Gwangil wasn’t sure which one made his chest hurt more.

Gwangil looked down at the food, pouting, before looking back at Yechan and saying, “I’ll eat later. I’m not hungry right now.”

A white lie. His stomach was churning and rumbling, but just the thought of food made him feel sick. If he even so much as tried to take a bite, he wasn’t sure if he could keep it down. Just the thought made a cold sweat break down the back of his neck.

Yechan continued to pout sadly, eyes continuously flickering between Gwangil and the food on the floor. “Promise you’ll eat, though?” he asked.

Gwangil blinked and nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything. The reply seemed to satisfy Yechan, at least for the time being, because he nodded himself, smiled, and reached over again to pat Gwangil on the head. Gwangil swatted him away, a whine quickly rising from his throat. Yechan laughed at Gwangil’s attempt to deflect the affection. 

“We’ll be in the studio if you want to join us,” he said, still smiling kindly, and left.

Gwangil sighed once he was gone, dropping his head into his hands and letting out another shuddering breath. His heart was still struggling to find a normal beat, so close to being found out.

He looked down at the Indian food, stomach once again churning at the thought of eating. He eventually picked it up and tried to at least eat a spoonful, but it was like swallowing sand. It felt like acid on his tongue and burnt his throat on the way down.

He couldn’t eat even if he wanted to. The action felt like it was choking him from the inside. All he could do was shamefully put it away and pick up his drumsticks.

All he could do was practice until he couldn’t physically drum any more.

Over the rhythmic thump of the snare drum, Gwangil heard the door open. He stopped drumming and looked to the door, expecting to see a staff member. Instead, Wonsang was poking his head through the door, blinking at Gwangil curiously before opening it further.

“You're still here?” Wonsang asked.

Gwangil looked down at himself. “Does it look like I’m somewhere else?”

Wonsang frowned and cocked his hip. “Yah, I’m just asking why you're still here.”

Gwangil glanced at the clock near the door. _Shit_ , it was late, just past 2am. He winced, just the knowledge that he’s been sitting in the same position for over 12 hours made his back ache. But he still couldn’t get the beat quite right, so it’s not like he could stop anytime soon.

Not wanting Wonsang to know about his failure as their drummer, Gwangil said back, “I could ask the same for you.”

Wonsang silently held up a grocery bag filled with convenience store goodies. “I wanted to get some snacks before I finished tonight. I’ll be done in about an hour if you wanna go home with me.”

A request. Wonsang tilted his head cutely, trying to convince Gwangil to go home at a reasonable time. It was tempting— a warm bed and freshly cooked ramen, the hum of the heating system and Yechan’s distant snoring to lull him to sleep. 

Gwangil shook his head, both to get rid of the temptation and as an answer. He wanted it, craved the break, but he couldn’t let his bandmates down like this. He had to keep going until he was proud of his drumming.

“Sorry,” he smiled sadly, “I still have work to do, but I’ll be done soon, so don’t wait up for me.”

Another little white lie, but it wasn’t like the others would know, probably fast asleep by the time he would actually get home.

Wonsang seemed to accept it well enough, even if a bit reluctantly. He frowned, but still nodded, digging through his grocery bag with a pout. 

Before Gwangil could ask what he was doing, he had to catch the drink being thrown his way. It was a small, caramel-flavored milk carton. By the time he looked up to thank Wonsang, the door was shut.

Gwangil looked back down at the milk carton, then at the half-drunk water bottle to the right of his chair, then at the now-cold Indian food just next to it. Frustrated and tired and overwhelmed, tears started to well up and Gwangil couldn’t help the whine he let out as he actually started to cry.

He rubbed at his eyes, willing the tears to go away as he sniffled and frowned at the food left for him by his bandmates.

Fuck, even while he was basically throwing a fit and isolating himself, they still thought of him. It made his chest ache and head hurt and Gwangil honestly just wanted to lie down and sleep.

The tears stopped after a while, but his eyes were now red and he couldn’t stop sniffling.

He tried to practice some more, but his grip on the drumsticks was weak and the beat of the snare drum was too slow. He couldn’t continue, not after crying and with exhaustion weighing down on him so much that his shoulders were drooping.

Another glance at the clock told him that it was past 4am. Wonsang was home, probably getting ready for bed. Gwangil’s ache for sleep grew stronger at the thought of his bandmate snuggly in bed. A single look at his blistered hands and the lack of progress he made was all Gwangil needed before finally deciding to go home for the night.

Gwangil packed up his things in a daze. On autopilot, he threw everything out, picked up his bag, and was more halfway to the dorm before he even realized where he was.

It was the dead of night, but people were still out and about. A few drunkards passed out on benches, college students stumbling out of bars and clubs, the occasional couple out on a midnight stroll. They passed Gwangil by in a blur. His eyes were hazy and brain a mile away, the only thing that broke him out of his fugue state was the beeping sound of himself punching in the code to the dorm.

The living room light was on when Gwangil opened the door. He blinked in confusion, stepping through the entryway and kitchen after taking off his shoes.

Sangyeop was on Yechan’s bed, head thrown back and fast asleep. Wonsang and Yechan were on the couch, Wonsang with his legs drawn up and head resting on his knees, and Yechan sprawled out in the area that Wonsang didn’t occupy.

Wonsang and Yechan were looking at Gwangil, wide-eyed and apparently surprised at his arrival. One good kick by Yechan woke Sangyeop up with a snort, momentarily confused, before zeroing in on Gwangil and sitting up.

“Uhm…” Gwangil shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with the knowing stares his hyungs were giving him.

“Gwangil,” Yechan started, voice low and cautious, like he was scared of frightening Gwangil away. “Why did you stay out so late?”

Gwangil stared at the ground. “Practice,” was the only answer he was able to force out.

“Until 4 in the morning?” Sangyeop asked.

Gwangil continued to stare at the ground as he nodded. What was he supposed to say? That he felt like a failure and was forcing himself to get better by any means necessary, even if it meant the risk of his own health?

There was no reply. The frustrated tears from before were beginning to resurface.

Gwangil rubbed at his still-red eyes furiously. He hated crying, especially in front of other people, but his emotions were completely fried in his tired and worn-out state.

Sangyeop made a noise, and the springs of Yechan’s bed squealed as he moved. “Gwangil-ah,” he called out softly, “Come here.”

Watery-eyed and still pouting, Gwangil dropped his bag in the doorway and kneeled onto the bed. He crawled between Sangyeop’s legs and relaxed into his awaiting arms, side pressed against his chest and head laying on his shoulder.

None of them really got intimate like this often. It was a bit embarrassing, especially since Gwangil could feel Wonsang and Yechan looking at him, but he was simply too drained to care.

Sangyeop threaded his hand through the hair on the back of Gwangil’s head while his other arm encased Gwangil. It was warm and comforting and Gwangil’s eyes were closed before he knew it.

The bed dipped, and Gwangil blearily opened his eyes to see Wonsang getting on the bed with them. He wrapped his long arms around Gwangil’s middle, his front pressed against Gwangil’s back. Yechan also got onto the bed, crawling around the three so he could wrap one arm just under Wonsang’s and rest his head against Gwangil’s chest.

Gwangil was essentially trapped between his three hyungs, but he felt more relaxed than he had all day. They were warm and their steady breathing made his heart slow down from the anxious _ba-dump_ he had all day.

“What’s wrong, Gwangil-ah?” Wonsang’s voice rumbled through Gwangil’s back, and hot puffs of air blew out against his neck.

Gwangil pursed his lips, but he didn’t stiffen and try to draw away. Even if he wanted to run, it wasn’t like he could with three people weighing him down, and he was too exhausted to even try. He sighed and mindlessly started picking at the thread of Yechan’s sheets.

“I’ve been feeling really down about myself, lately. I hate my drumming and want to improve for Lucy. I’ve been practicing all day to get better, but I just feel like I’m getting worse and worse.”

Yechan made a noise, sitting up so he could turn around and look Gwangil in the eye. “What makes you think that?” He looked hurt for some reason, eyebrows pinched together and pout pulling his face into a frown.

Gwangil shrugged and shrunk in on himself. Voicing it aloud was embarrassing, but after gnawing on his lip for a second, he finally relented.

“I’ve been watching videos of a bunch of other bands’ drummers. They’re so amazing and talented and are able to do things I couldn’t even dream of. Dowoon, Jonggil, Jaehyun… all of them are better than me.” Just thinking about it made hot tears well up in his eyes. His face twisted to try and keep them at bay, but a warm hand was caressing his face soon after.

Gwangil’s eyes followed the attached arm and met Sangyeop’s own face. He was sad, close to tears himself, but that didn’t stop him from swiping at the forming tears in Gwangil’s eyes.

“They've been practicing for years,” he said, letting his hand rest on Gwangil’s cheek. A comforting presence. “You only started professionally drumming a year ago. You’ve improved leaps and bounds since then.”

“You’re easy to work with, Gwangil. I wouldn't want anyone else but you drumming for us,” Wonsang said. His own head was now resting on Gwangil’s back, forehead nuzzling into his neck like an affectionate cat.

“I know, but-“ Gwangil started chewing on his lip harder with the effort to not burst into tears. He took a deep breath and restarted.

“I _know_ , but it’s hard sometimes. I feel so inadequate compared to you guys, and I feel like I’m just keeping the group back from doing greater things.”

“Gwangil.”

Gwangil looked up to see Yechan’s face distorted in pain. Unable to handle seeing his hyung so distraught, he looked away, burying his face back into Sangyeop’s neck.

“Gwangil, look at me.”

A command, voice raw and close to cracking. Gwangil relented, lifting his face from Sangyeop’s shoulder to look Yechan in the eyes. Tears were welled up in Yechan’s eyes, eyebrows still furrowed like he could feel Gwangil’s pain first-hand.

“Gwangil,” Yechan started, voice still wobbly around the edges. “Even if you aren’t the best drummer, we wouldn’t want anyone but _you_ . You’re a part of our team because we like you and you’re our friend and you’re an amazing drummer that we wouldn’t trade for the world.” He leaned forward, taking Gwangil’s face between his hands. “Please, next time you start to doubt yourself, come talk to us instead of hiding away. We want to help you and make you feel like you belong with us because you _do_. Lucy wouldn’t be Lucy without you.”

The tears that Gwangil had been trying so hard to keep at bay were finally starting to leak out. He shuddered as he cried and both Wonsang and Sangyeop tightened their grip around Gwangil’s middle. Yechan dropped Gwangil’s face to wrap him up in his arms, letting his own shirt soak up the tears.

When he finally got a hold of himself, Gwangil shoved Yechan away. “ _Hyung_ ,” he whined, “You can’t just say stuff like that and make me _cry_.”

The laughter started with Wonsang, bubbling over into Sangyeop, before they were all laughing and cooing and Gwangil’s pouting face.

“Oh, our cute maknae,” Sangyeop cooed, trying to pinch at Gwangil’s cheeks. “How cruel of us to make you cry.”

Gwangil would swat away the teasing, normally, but now, after everything he forced himself to go through, he couldn’t help but bask in the affection. He continued to pout only because it made them dote on him more, and it all made him melt into the welcoming arms of his hyungs.

And if they fell asleep like that, arms wrapped around each other, with Gwangil in the middle, no one would have to know.

**Author's Note:**

> also i finally made a twitter after like. 5 years of writing fanfiction sgxfbbk idk how to use it but feel free to send requests or talk to me [@lucytagon](http://twitter.com/lucytagon) mwah !


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